I am grateful for my parents.

#ProjectZen #Day1 #GratitudeProject

My very first entry in my gratitude project blog will be about my parents.

My mother was from Germany. My father grew up on a family farm in Michigan. They met in Germany after WW II, and got married in Schwabisch Hall in 1949.

Five boys came before I was in the picture (one son tragically died in 1964). I was adopted at ten months old out of foster care (Catholic Charities) in 1966. My parents gave me a second chance at being part of a family of my own, I was taught to work hard. I was taught right from wrong. My every need was met, and as the youngest child and only girl, it’s safe for anyone to assume that as a little girl I was spoiled.

I grew up on a farm and learned the value of simple things.

As an adult my relationship with my mom was strained. I regret my part of that now, especially since she is no longer with us. The wisdom that comes with age has given me a kinder attitude, and my mom was a beautiful lady, she was incredibly intelligent (multi-lingual too), and she did the very best she could, with what she had. I benefited from all her efforts and was safe in her care. I am grateful for the lesson that I learned when my mom passed away….it was a hard, painful one. To say the things that need saying, out loud. I didn’t get that opportunity with her, but I see this as part of a sharp learning curve now. Thank you for this final lesson that nothing in life is guaranteed, not even tomorrow. It changed my perspective, and caused me to become less selfish, and kinder. 

18 years worth of cooking lessons from my mother make my husband a happy man when he bellies up to my kitchen table, too. 

To this day I still drag around a bright orange afghan that my mother made for me when I was a small child. As I write this, I am 50 years old. That afghan comforts me as much today, as it did then, and I wrap up in it often.

My dad is a veteran. He worked a full time factory job, while farming full time at home, at the same time. He was on the school board. He helped people out. He was strong. He took us fishing and camping. He went to our basketball games and cheered loudly. Dad taught me that my word is my bond.

So, today my first gratitude blog goes back to where my life really began, and for the two people, who made that happen. I am grateful for my parents.














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